Crash Space
by StarsAndSparks44
Summary: Darrel Curtis is used to having his buddies crash at his house in the middle of the night. But, he’s pretty shocked when Curly Shepard staggers in, drunk out of his mind and determined to talk to Ponyboy. What’s a Superman to do?


Crash Space

Summary: Darrel Curtis is used to having his buddies crash at his house in the middle of the night. But, he's pretty shocked when Curly Shepard staggers in, drunk out of his mind and determined to talk to Ponyboy. What's Superman to do?

Author's Note: Hi everyone! So, this is my first Outsiders fic, it's an experiment really, so if i didn't quite get the characters right, please tell me! Anyways, I really hope that everyone likes this story - because I know I had fun writing it!

I do not own The Outsiders.

S.E. Hinton does.

*sigh*

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Chapter 1:

It was one o'clock in the morning when I heard the banging on the front door. Standing up from where I'd been lounging on the couch in our tiny living room, I shook myself out a little, trying to get my circulation back up and running. I'd lost track of the time I'd been sitting there, book in hand and a cup of coffee right next to me.

I hadn't been having much luck with sleeping that night, and around eleven I'd decided the hell with it. Besides, I was the only one in the house, with Pony on a school trip and Soda out with Steve, so it wasn't like I'd accidentally wake someone up. Walking towards the door, I frowned slightly. Whoever it was, they hadn't stopped knocking.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming!" I called out, letting the annoyance seep into my voice. All the guys knew that they didn't need to knock. Hell, I was pretty ticked at whoever it was – because I had to put down my book and answer it the door.

So, when I opened the door, I was ready to give whoever was disturbing me an ear-full. Instead, ended up jumping out of the way as someone reeled through the doorway, their raised arm – probably going to knock again – seeming to pull them forwards. Raising my eyebrows, I watched whoever it was stumbled around, until he found a wall to lean on.

Narrowing my eyes, I looked him over. He was tall enough, but lanky, in that awkward 'teenaged growth-spurt' way. The loose T shirt and oversized leather jacket he wore only accentuated how thin he was. He looked like any other teenage greaser you might find, but with his dark curly hair and the scar on his left forefinger, I pinned him easily.

"What're you doing here, kid?" I demanded, as Curly Shepard made his way to my couch and sat down – well, it was more like he fell down – before staring up at me with blurry dark blue eyes. Narrowing my eyes, I let go of the door, which I'd been holding open. It slammed closed with a loud 'clack!'

"Darry... I need... I need ta talk with...Pony.." he slurred out, rubbing his hand across his face. As he did, I noticed the dark bruise on his left temple, and as he lifted his arm the large, dark stain on his T shirt jumped out at me.

By now, I was pretty sure he'd been in a fight, and just needed somewhere to crash. It made sense, since he was way out of his gang's territory. But why did he need to talk to Pony? Well, he was piss drunk, so maybe that explained it.

"Ponyboy's not here, Shepard. And even if he was, it'd be too late for him to get up and talk. Now what are you doing here?" I repeated my question, frowning.

I didn't like Curly, almost as much as I didn't like his brother, Tim. A real hood, he was, and a bad influence if I've ever seen one. I didn't like him hanging around here, and not with my kid brother, especially. Curly scowled deeply, narrowing his bloodshot eyes.

"S'none o' your business! I need to talk to 'im." he yelled, making an effort to get up, but was too soused to stand back up. It was just as well, I though, walking into the room to sit on the chair across from the couch. Curly had an explosive temper. Hard fists, too.

"I just said, he's not here. Now, what the devil are you doing here at one in the morning?" I asked, raising my voice. By then I was tired, and all I wanted was to go to bed. But, I didn't really want to leave Curly unsupervised in my house. I didn't want to say I didn't trust him...but I didn't. Not one bit.

"Lordy, where the fuck is Pony when I need 'im?" Curly suddenly exploded, staggering upright, and turning to make his way upstairs, towards Ponyboy's room.

"Pony's not here, Shepard! Don't you get it?" when Curly didn't turn around, I strode over and grabbed the idiot, holding on tightly as he squirmed, cussing and yelling threats. Gritting my teeth, I felt my muscles burn. I'd obviously underestimated Curly – he was strong.

Soon enough, the two of us were rolling on the ground, knocking into things and swearing at each other.

Finally, I managed to knock Curly's head into the leg of the couch, stunning him. I pinned his arms and legs, using my larger size to my advantage by lying on him, preventing any movement. For a few moments, the two of us only lay there, breathing heavily. Feeling something wet on my arm, I looked down. It was lying on the dark stain I'd noticed earlier on Curly's shirt. Pulling my arm away, I wiped at it the stain with my finger.

It came away red.

Looking down at Curly, I frowned. Besides the bruise on his head he didn't seem to be injured, and he hadn't let on that the blood was his own. With a scowl, I stood up, watching the Shepard carefully as he stood up, clutching his head and glaring at me.

"What happened to you, Curly? There's blood on your shirt, It sure as hell ain't yours." I said cooly, sitting down on the couch, watching for his reaction.

Let me tell you, it wasn't what I was expecting.

Curly's face, which had been seething with rage just moments earlier, slacked and he let out a long, low groan. Just as suddenly, he lurched forwards. Leaning forwards quickly, I caught him underneath the armpits, and hoisted him onto the couch next to me.

Leaning over so that his head was resting on his knees, Curly Shepard – tough-as-nails, hoodlum, a Mini Tim – began to bawl loudly.

"I-it's all my fault!" he choked out, and I jumped up, muscles tightened and eyes wide. I wasn't good with crying people. Soda and Pony were usually the ones who dealt with that sort of stuff. But now here I was, alone in a house with a bawling hood.

With a silent sigh, I eased myself back onto the couch, staring awkwardly at Curly. Well, even if I wasn't very good at it, I could at least _**try**_ to make him feel better.

"Curly, what's wrong? What's with the waterworks?" I asked, trying to sound gentle. At first I wasn't sure if he'd heard me, since he didn't stop crying – or even try to. But, as I drew a breath to repeat my question, Curly's sobs finally quieted down, and slowly – oh, so slowly – he raised his head, wiping his eyes.

"You ain't gonna understand." he grumbled, clenching his fists in frustration as he dug his palm into his eyes, trying to stop himself from crying. Clenching my teeth, I glared at him. This kid was getting on my last nerve.

"Look, kid, you're sitting in _**my**_ house, bawling on _**my**_ couch, and if you don't tell me what the devil is wrong, I'll throw you out so fast you won't even have time to yell!" I yelled, grabbing his shoulder firmly. For a second Curly stared at me, shock evident in his wet face. And then he shrugged, trying to detatch my hand.

"Fine, fine! I'll tell ya. So, I was out with my buddies, and we was goin' down this alleyway, right, when this old bum jumps out at us, askin' for money, spewing some bullshit about having a family to feed." Curly laughed shakily, but I only nodded.

"And then?" I asked. Curly scowled, rubbing at his eyes again.

"Gimmie my time! So, since we didn't have no money to give 'im even if we wanted to we just walked by, until Gerry gets this great idea, see? He says we should go jump 'im, take whatever money he has. I didn't see no problem with it, so I went along with it." I narrowed my eyes as the Shepard ranted on. That was why I didn't like his group.

"So anyways, we go back, all quiet like, back to where he was sitting on this dirty mat, surrounded by trash an' dirt an' stuff." Curly's voice cracked up a bit at the end, and I got the feeling something big was going to happen.

"So, we take up our positions and we jump on him, real quick. But, it turned out he had a blade on 'im. He took a swipe at us, and before I knew it I grabbed a piece of pipe off the ground and just, you know, _**swung**_ it. I didn't want to kill him or anything, just, you know, knock him out or something. I didn't want him to die!" Curly was starting to shake, and his eyes were wide. In a flash, I was reminded of Johnny, after he took a whipping from his old man. I knew what to do now.

Scooting closer to Curly, I carefully put my arms around his shaking shoulders, half expecting him to take a swipe at me. Thankfully, his's fists stayed where they were, and as I pulled him in closer, he started right back up bawling, and I could feel the salty water soaking my shirt. He was working himself right back up.

"When I got him, the other guys ran, real quick. I don't think the fuzz'll be after me, since no one was around and it was only a bum, but still, when I looked down at him, I, I...." Curly didn't finish, his breath heaving and shallow at the same time, but I could see what he was seeing. A crumpled old man, lying face down or on his side, in a pool of blood. His own blood.

It made me feel sick to my stomach, and I was positive that Curly felt the same way. Sure enough, Curly groped quickly for the small plastic garbage can we kept next to the couch, and before I knew it he was throwing up violently. Meanwhile, I did all that I could do – I held his hair out of his face, and tried my best to calm him down.

"It's ok kid, it'll be ok." I whispered over and over, rubbing soothing circles on his back. I wasn't quite sure if it was helping, but it was what Soda usually did for Pony when he was sick, and if Soda did it, it was probably the right thing to do.

Finally, after emptying his stomach from what I was sure was his breakfast, lunch and dinner from the day before too today, Curly's form finally relaxed, and he drew in much-needed air in huge gulps. Lifting him back up carefully, I layed the Shepard sideways on the couch, before standing up.

I made sure to move the garbage by his head, though. I didn't want to think of what would happen if Curly puked all over the couch. I'm pretty sure we'd have to get a new one if he did.

"Just lie there for a sec. I'm gonna go find you some clean clothes, and some blankets." I explained, watching as Curly's breathing slowly returned to normal, and the tears finally, _**finally**_ stopped. Looking up at me, Curly shook his head.

"Don't bother yourself. I'mma get goin' now..." he trailed off, trying to get up, but I pushed him back down firmly. He was just like Pony or Soda when they were sick!

"I don't think so, kid. There's no way that I'm letting you walk across the entire East Side tonight. Now I'm gonna go get your stuff, and you'd better still be here when I get back." I threatened lightly, pointing a finger at him sternly.

"Alright, mom." he chuckled tiredly, smirking slightly as he closed his eyes. Rolling my eyes, I decided to leave it alone, and went to find him something to wear.

Sure, I thought as I searched through Soda's drawer for a shirt, even if I still thought Curly and his whole group were the sort that gave greasers a bad name, and I still didn't like him hanging out with Pony, at least Curly proved he wasn't as much like Tim as people thought.

Tim wouldn't have come into his house, bawling. Tim wouldn't have gotten sick over the fact that he'd killed someone. No, Curly wasn't Tim. And since he wasn't, I decided that it didn't make sense to hate him so much.

By the time I was sure Curly was settled in, I flopped into bed, it was two-thirty in the morning, and I was exhausted. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax into the pillow. Finally, I could stop playing therapist and go to bed.

At least until four, when Steve and Soda burst through the door, blubbering about how Steve had seen his girl cheating on him.

I didn't get _**any**_ sleep after that.

THE END

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Ok, I know that alot of the characters are probably out of character (especially Curly) but killing someone is bound to change you - at least a little.

Anyways, I would definitively appreciate some reviews for this puppy, because if no one likes the way i write the Outsiders, then it'll let me know not to post any more stories about them :P

Aurevoir for now!

StarsAndSparks44


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